Squeak. Roll. Crash.
I thought this only happened in movies, but there I was, flying through the air, in my bathrobe, as I tripped and fell, landing squarely on my butt (which thank god has some extra cushion) -- thanks to an oversized Tonka truck that was left by my son right in the middle of the hallway. Did I mention this happened at 6 AM on my bleary-eyed walk to the coffee maker?
Since when did I start living in a Toys "R" Us, rather than a two-bedroom Los Angeles apartment?
We are swimming in toys. It's hard to pinpoint when mass migration of toys to our tiny apartment started. It's as if they multiply when we are asleep. Could this be? Especially on the stuffed animal front. His bunny foo-foo did seem to be getting a little handsy with teddy last night.
Mind you, most of these toys seem to make NOISE, and lots of it. Our friends, sans kids, seem to get us the loudest ones. Thanks, guys. Super funny. Just wait until you have kids. Revenge is sweet. My son has a particularly loud toy which plays kid versions of pop favorites. Just yesterday, I was one "Wide Open Spaces" (by the Dixie Chicks) away from a nervous breakdown. And then there is the infamous Alex the Lion doll from "Madagascar" that screams "Hi, I'm Alex, the Alex," seemingly over and over again. Well, not seemingly, it really is over and over and over again. I once heard my husband say it in his sleep. Seriously, that's how many times we hear it a day. It's invading his psyche.
And that Elmo that counts to ten and knows his alphabet. What a pretentious jerk.
If anyone needs me, I'll be in my closet hiding from the toys.
Repurposed from Momlogic.com